


M is for Antivan Milk Sandwich

by OtakuElf



Series: YADAA (Yet Another Dragon Age Alphabet) [13]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Deliberate cultural misunderstandings, Dinner conversations, Multi, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 15:29:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3773413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtakuElf/pseuds/OtakuElf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>... because my daughter asked me to write a "spicy" story about the phrase "Antivan Milk Sandwich".  My children have this idea that fanfiction is all about the pr0n.</p><p>Thank you to Lunamoth116 for beta-reading!</p>
            </blockquote>





	M is for Antivan Milk Sandwich

Vigil’s Keep. Newly acquired home of the miniscule number of Grey Wardens in Ferelden. The vast reverberating emptiness of the main hall was surrounded by cold, solid stone, from the dark gray slate flags of the flooring to the mottled granite blocks making up the walls. Much of those walls were covered with ancient tapestries. Moving toward threadbare, the weavings served to warm the atmosphere of the room with faded, still attractive colors, and keep the noise down to an acceptable level. They did help with the echoing, if not with the rowdy commentary by the Grey Wardens at meat. There was a Qunari-sized fireplace - big enough to roast an arishok, anyway, and there was a glorious hardwood fire blazing away inside it. The fire heated one side of the heavy ironwood tables, and they were sitting down - finally - to a hot meal together when Sigrun asked perkily, “So. What is an Antivan Milk Sandwich?”

The former Legionnaire of the Dead, a branded - or tattooed - clanless dwarf exiled from Orzammar, watched everyone’s reactions intently. Dour, quiet Nathaniel did a truly excellent spit-take with the mouthful of beer he had just taken. Actually, Sigrun had timed her question to receive this hoped-for response. Nathaniel really was adorable!

Oghren continued to empty his enormous tankard - it was kept for him specifically and would probably kill anyone else drying to drain it at one long pull - before looking up at her blearily and asking, “A what?” The foul bloom of the continuous ingestion of alcohol escaped his unkempt beard and spread along the table with his question. Even for a dwarf from Orzammar, Oghren drank an inordinate amount.

Velanna ignored them all, sour face concentrating on mentally picking apart what they’d been given to eat. The elvhen woman looked peaky, pale behind her vellasin brands, and discontented from her pointed ears to those overly slender feet. How she managed to walk on those thin pins was a mystery to Sigrun. By the Stone, the girl had nothing to complain about with the food. Because it was not Dalish, it was not edible? No logic at all behind her complaints. These victuals were well-cooked, not made from rotten meat, and had some care to the seasonings. Truly better than anything Sigrun had scavenged while growing up. There were worse foodstuffs in the Deep Roads. Sigrun ate an enormous quantity whenever they got back to the Keep, simply because she appreciated the gift of it. Sigrun was also pleased that she did not have to cook it. Sigrun's preparation of food tended toward scorched on the outside, and raw on the inside. Velanna’s cooking was not much better. Sigrun had tasted that in the field.

The Warden-Commander, Theron Mahariel, Hero of Ferelden, cocked his dark-haired head, examining her, face composed behind those Dalish brands. He said nothing, waiting for her next question or comment. She was getting used to him studying her. He watched them all. He had offered them a home as well, something the brand had not had for many years. Sigrun liked the Warden-Commander.

Anders, the mage, blushed. Hysterical. These humans and their prudish nature about sex! Sigrun found it highly amusing, though she did not let that show.

Oghren had caught on, somewhat. “Oh, it’s about rutting, is it? Trust a human to come up with a weird description for donning the velvet hood.”

Yes. They had all heard Oghren’s long list of increasingly absurd euphemisms for sex. Sigrun hurriedly turned to Anders and asked, “Is it?” as artlessly as she possibly could.

“Oh. Er,” Anders’s light tenor stuttered, “yes. Sigrun, I’d be happy to discuss this with you later. Say, in the privacy of your quarters? Give you a full description, complete with illustrations… Rather than bore people here with it.” 

Nathaniel’s coughing under control, the dark, sarcastic archer commented dryly, “Yes, I’m quite sure that your aim is not to bore us all.”

Anders colored a bit more. That pale skin. For all that they heard about the kissing and other things at Kinloch Hold, the human’s approach to sexuality was really very naive. “Nathaniel -” Sigrun heard the blond-haired human’s voice drop down into a lovely purr “- I would be very happy to discuss Milk Sandwiches and most anything else with you in your quarters. With or without Sigrun.”

Hmmm. Sigrun considered. Perhaps Anders was not as nervous or naive as she had thought. A close discussion with Nathaniel and Anders did sound like fun.

The Warden-Commander spoke up. He was not much of one for conversation. It was a tenor, but not as light as Anders’s, not seductive, and never whining. Sigrun enjoyed listening to it. So different from the voices of her people. “At some point Zevran Arainai will be showing up here. You could just wait for your answer until then, Sigrun.”

“The nug-licker! Hah! He’d probably give you a good solid rutting on the table here.” Oghren belched. “The Paragons know that he was in and out of the tent with anything, male or female, that he could talk into forging the moaning statue. No one in the party, you understand -” that with a nod toward the Hero of Ferelden “- but practically every rutting thing else. I’m betting he’s bedded just about everyone in the palace in Denerim by now.”

Mahariel lifted an eyebrow, which for some reason sent Oghren into paroxysms of raucous laughter. 

Sigrun turned back to Nathaniel and Anders. Grinning now, she asked, “That’s as may be, but are we going to be meeting later on to discuss definitions?”

Nathaniel blinked at her, and neatly caught the fork that he had dropped. Good reflexes. Sigrun could work with that.

Anders gave them both a sly smile. Yes. Sigrun could definitely work with this.


End file.
